


The Airport, The Diner, and the Hotel: A Birthday Story

by satalderihannsu



Category: Black Jack (Anime & Manga), Young Black Jack - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Birthday Smut, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Facial Shaving, First Time, Gentle Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Oral Sex, Scars, Shaving, Snowed In, Switching, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 19:53:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7814935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/satalderihannsu/pseuds/satalderihannsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coming and going, two dark doctors meet in frustrating circumstances in an airport. When Black Jack's dropped passport reveals some significant information to Kiriko, he concocts an evil plot. Evil, I said. Not at all made of cake and snuggles. Bit of hurt/comfort birthday smut that had been made a while ago that needed to be made good-ish for some birthday gifting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Airport, The Diner, and the Hotel: A Birthday Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DVDemoni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DVDemoni/gifts).



**The Airport**

 

It had been a short, frustrating phone call home, Pinoko crying at him. He had promised to try to be home by today, but despite all she thought of him, there were somethings he could not control. Like governments, coups, and civil wars. Oh yes. And the weather. He sighed and stared out the window. The blizzard that had grounded all air travel showed no signs of slowing. He leaned his elbows on his knees. He looked up at the no smoking sign with thinly veiled irritation. Then again, it might be best to get back out of the habit before he went home anyway. The last few days had seen him engage in some of his worse habits, but he could hear Pinoko now: “What kind of doctor still  _ smokes _ in this day and age!” The last time he’d had the smell of smoke on his coat, she had made use of her, ah, full vocabulary rather effectively. He scrubbed a little at his stubble, the different patterns of growth causing the whole mess to itch.

And really, he needed to talk to her about that sort of language. One really couldn't argue that they were the delicate flower of womanhood when they used such salty language.

There came a heavy sound, a long sigh, and the presence of a sagging body folding into a nearby seat. That body wore a creased black suit and had long, unkempt white hair. The only flash of color accompanying was in the form of a long, orange scarf.

Oh.

Oh no.

Black Jack fixed his stare on his hands and bit his lip. Again, he wanted the gentle burn of tobacco. On one hand, he considered that at least the night wouldn't be boring. He glanced to the television. He scowled grimly at the it, since the news was, naturally, running the unfolding story of the recently defunct country of Wehthehellami, and its deposed dictator.

Black Jack ignored the shadowy figure as he turned his head. He ignored the grin. He especially ignored that the grin expanded.

"Well what do you know?” A beat, and the man leaned into Black Jack’s personal proximity. “How are you, Dr. Black Jack? I didn't know you'd be in the States."

"Neither did I. I didn't intend to be here." Black Jack leaned as far back as his seat would allow. There was no point to staring at the television screen now: the chatter meant he couldn’t hear the quiet volume of the broadcast, and trying to quickly read the misspelled English closed captions was proving to be troublesome. He decided to acknowledge his... companion? Space invader? The grin was wide, but Dr. Kiriko’s one good eye was hard and cold. Black Jack crooked an eyebrow. "And you? Lost your zest for your work finally?"

Kiriko’s grin transformed dramatically into a deep glower. He leaned back in his own chair. "The weather delayed my own airplane. I... didn't make it." Sorrow played over his features. Black Jack’s heart gave a sharp pang of recognition.

"You mean...?" The meaning of "didn’t make it" was the same for both of them, despite their differing methods. It meant someone had died, in a needlessly painful way.

"From what I understand, it was nearly endless paroxysms of agony."  Kiriko put his head into his hands. "I could do nothing to help."  The ache in his voice was the same as for any doctor, that much was clear.

"What was the diagnosis?" Black Jack bit down on the words as soon as they slipped from his lips. The other was obviously hurting. Perhaps it would be something for which surgery had no cure yet.

Kiriko gave a half-hearted glare, but the expression left his face quickly.  "It's not a matter now.  It's not like even you can get a taxi in this weather and swoop in to try and miraculously save anyone." He offered a weak smirk that didn't reach his eyes.

"I apologize. I had not intended to cause harm." It was said brusquely, but he did not get up to leave. He turned to his bag, tucking his passport into the front pocket.

Kiriko watched. "You were trying to get home tonight?" he asked. He saw the tan, the stubble.  "You weren't coming  _ to  _ Chicago at all. It was a layover, wasn't it?" There were no hotel vacancies, everyone knew that.

Black Jack closed his eyes again. He hadn't been supposed to come to the US at all, but with the recent collapse of his patron's regime, he wasn't in a position to be choosey. With a bit of quick talking, madcap driving not legal in any country, and then finally a slide under a flight gate as it was closing, he had been on a flight to Chicago. "It wasn't on my itinerary."

Kiriko eyeballed him."When did you last eat?" His guess by the evidence was about a day ago.  All of the restaurants in the airport were closed at the moment. Most of the vending machines were going on empty. Even his own hotel room at one of the attached hotels had nothing in it except water bottles and overpriced alcohol.  Neither of them were hurting for money, but, given the blizzard, access to food, bed, and comfort was challenging.

Black Jack scowled up at the television, the news story running again about the fallen country. "The last time I ate was the last time that  _ that  _ was a country." He sighed and leaned back against the back of the formed hard, plastic seat.

"Were you aware that on the other side of this airport, across a bit of tarmac, through a small span of blizzard, is a Pancake Hut?” He paused, as though awaiting a response.  There was none. “They are still open, or were this morning. Since they're also trapped, they said they'd ‘keep going till they ran out of eggs’."

Black Jack opened one eye skeptically. "Pancake Hut?" Americans were strange. There was no getting around that. He looked out the airport windows. He could barely see much more than the lights across the runway. "Do they have decent coffee?"

Kiriko looked up at the ceiling. "If I told you yes, would you come?"

"Hm. I think I would even if the coffee isn't decent." He stood, his back cracking a bit. He hefted his pack. "Where is this Pancake Hut?" His slight accent clipped the words, such that they sounded held out gingerly with two fingers.

Kiriko stood and shoved his hands in his pockets.  He didn't have a bag, as he'd only come to check up on the airport's potential scheduling. He stretched to his full height and made a similar pop-crack. "The coffee is dreadful,” he confessed, “but it still has 200 milligrams of caffeine. Goes well with the grease.  Come on. My treat."

The other doctor towered when he was stretched like that. Black Jack remembered when he stood like that more often. "I'm sure we have both had worse." As he turned to follow him, there was a soft clatter. He looked down. His ID had fallen from a fold in his coat.

Kiriko automatically leaned down to pick it up, as it had landed near his feet. His eyes glazed over it, noting that it properly listed "Hazama Kuroo" in both Japanese and English, and then he noticed... He smirked at he handed it back.

Perfunctorily, Black Jack said, "Thank you," as he tucked the passport into his bag. He’d had to have it ready at a moment's notice the past few days. At least for right now he should be  able of not having it in hand.

 

 

**The Diner**

 

Kiriko found himself whistling a wandering, warbling tune. It was almost, but not quite, similar in rhythm to a song that was perpetually a topic in certain copyright communities.  He lead the way through the long Chicago airport, to the furthest exit from where they had been.  Outside the glass doors raged the storm. Wind made the snow flow sideways, and the cold was sharp.  In the distance, just visible, were lit letters reading "-ANCA-E HU-." He watched Black Jack duck his head and tug the collar of his coat so that it swirled upward, guarding his face against the wind and snow. Both men watched quietly together, matching stride through the sharp wind. Kiriko’s coat fought the cold well. There was a slight tinkling sound from Black Jack’s coat as the wind buffeted it around the doctor’s body.

In several minutes, they made it across the long walkway, and finally reached the door of the “-ANCA-E HU-.” The smell of (burned, unhealthful) hot food caused Black Jack’s stomach to almost purr. They slid into a booth in a back corner. Kiriko had perked up. Black Jack found it infuriating how that man could bounce back.

A woman in a bright, faded print t-shirt greeted them with a long drawl from the bar. She patted her customer’s hand before pulling away and trotting over to these new lost kittens come out of the snow. Coffee was soon on the table, without either having asked, and menus obscured each man from the other's view. Kiriko muttered, "Now, just because I'm paying, don't use that as an excuse to go a get the lobster."

Black Jack’s eyes automatically scanned over the sticky text. "Do they even have lobster?" The loud burst of laughter told him no. No curry either. He held in his sigh.

"I can recommend the bacon.  Anything with bacon is likely to not kill you." He put down the menu and drank his coffee in one long, scalding gulp. He refused to let it show, but Kiriko was shaken by the day. He had refused payment from the family, of course. He had needed to repeat it many times on the telephone with the family, who had trouble hearing Dr. Death over the cries in the background of the call. Kiriko tried, and mostly succeeded, to clear his head and focus on Black Jack. "So. How was Wehthehellami? Or should I be asking about the Wehthehel Republic and Ami Province and surrounding city states?"

Black Jack pondered his own coffee, and decided that perhaps cream would be a good idea. "It was as  intense as such things are." He'd barely made it out of the palace before it was stormed.

Kiriko snorted. "It's what you get for bothering to treat hellish people. I had a feeling you might end up mixed up in all that." There was a television here as well, but the program was thankfully just a terrible crime show.

"Hellish people have money too. And sick family members." He finished wrestling open two small cream pods and dropped the contents into his coffee. He took a sip, grimaced, and reached for the sugar. They made their orders when the lady in pink returned. She blushed her way through Black Jack’s order, and refilled his coffee as well. While he was used to it, Black Jack always felt the slight irritation and wish that his appearance didn’t throw  _ everyone _ off like this. He sunk down in the booth a bit more when she turned her attention to Kiriko. He gave his order, then asked a quiet question, presumably about how the bacon was cooked, or something else inane.

Kiriko leaned forward, his awkward height letting him get much closer to Black Jack than really anyone sane would bother.  "She seemed a bit flustered, didn’t she? Still have it, as they say.” He only grinned more at the cold stare Black Jack gave him. Kiriko suppressed the need to chuckle, and changed tracks. “Today is a  _ special _ day, isn’t it?"

Black Jack looked up from where he had sunk down. Stubbled chin and dark circles under his eyes told of a different sort of day. "I am not in this moment under fire from heavy military weaponry. That makes for an excellent day."

"Precisely!" Kiriko said. "And you should celebrate a happy day."  He smirked.

At that moment, Barbara returned with platters of hot, greasy food that smelled amazing.  Once she had set everything down, he motioned for her to come close.  He whispered to her, winked at Black Jack once, then they shared a conspiratorial smile. The other doctor missed this interaction. He was rather proud that he did not inhale his food. With his delicate gastronomy, he had to maintain a certain level of self-control. The food was passable, and flavoured with hunger besides. He paused to chew, and took a sip of coffee. Their conversation meandered, and was careful to stay away from work. Most topics were centered on weather, politics, and even religion--all safe conversation pieces for them. 

As the munching subsided, Kiriko asked, "I suppose that's the end of the meal, yes?  Could you eat another bite?"

He looked down at the plate in front of him. He'd even ordered extra food, and no evidence remained of its existence. "I think I have had enough for one sitting. Why?"

"Oh, that's a shame." Kiriko waved a hand as though to get a cheque. Suddenly, every member of staff in the establishment became a-flurry, and from the back came Barbara with the largest piece of peanut butter pie cake that ever existed. There was a single emergency candle shoved into it gracelessly, lit. The generously-dubbed-singing was easily the most heinous racket to  _ not  _ be shot out of a poorly tuned canon.  "Happy biiiirthday TO YOU...!  Haaappy biiirthday TO YOU!  Haaappy Birthday, dear mmmphlmuffJack! Happy Biiiiirthday toooooo yooooou!" Kiriko’s voice was  the loudest of all.

Black Jack’s first instinct was to run, but the snow had picked up. It seemed that his choices had narrowed to either birthday cake or getting lost in a white out conditions. He leaned his head against his hand, hiding as he could.  _ I’ll kill him. Then perform surgery on the wound _ .  _ Then perhaps kill him again. _

Barbara stuck around even when the cooks and dishboy and manager had returned to their posts.  She was blushing deeply as she said, "Do you want to blow it out?" She flushed again. 

"Yes, yes," Kiriko said, "Please do us the favor of a blow job."  He played up his accent so that he could get a pass on the entendre.  It wouldn't fool Black Jack, of course, but no matter.

The server, “Barbara” according to her nametag, was blushing as red as the cherry atop the whip cream.

Black Jack glared ice across the table. He leaned forward and with a short puff, blew out the candle. She handed him a fork and scuttled off to take care of napkin folding.

"The good news is that you will not have to take Fraulein Barbara up on her inevitable offer to stay here until the summer sun melts your icy heart. This is because I still have my hotel room. It even has two beds because of a mix-up at the concierge. I bet it would go down better with milk."

""I beg your pardon?" He was eyeing the pie. Cake. Whatever this thing was. It looked like sugar, and a lot of it at that. The offer of a bed, though: that was much better than whatever this thing was.

"Barbara? Milk, please!"  She brought it promptly.  "I've got two beds, paid for by my client.  I can't undo that transaction. You should make use of my good fortune."  His eyes flicked over Black Jack's face.  "You look like you could use a shave."

Black Jack considered at the glass of milk. He did try some of the pie cake. He couldn't say no to Kiriko’s offer. Not really. He knew how bad his back would be if he had to sleep on the the hard, plastic seats in the airport. He oddly could trust this man, but just not apparently where large sweets and singing were involved.

They were soon finished with the Pancake Hut, and ready to prepare themselves for the storm.  The snow had subsided to a slow, picture-perfect fluff-fall, and they would just be trudging through the deeper parts of it.  Even though it had grown dark, it was easy to see the airport glowing across the way (as well as its two attached hotels).  Kiriko paid, and Barbara wished them a nice night (“And a happy birthday, sweetie!”). Kiriko waved farewell, and followed Black Jack to the door.

Barbara watched them leave, and let out a surprised " _ Oh _ !" as she watched. Perhaps it was because she caught sight of the taller man's hand as it patted the backside of the man with the scar as they left the restaurant.

 

 

**The Hotel**

 

It was not a squeak. That would be ill-dignified, and he certainly couldn't handle the idea of less dignity at this point. Black Jack did spare a glare back to his companion. “Don’t be obscene,” he admonished.

“My deepest apologies,” Kiriko said with a half-bow. Then he pointed. “That one on the north side, with the shorter building in front. That’s the hotel in which I’m spending the night. So it’s not a terrible walk from here. At least, no more so than any other visible structure.” He started walking toward it with slow, but long, strides.

Oddly, despite the less vile wind conditions, he felt colder. He knew it was because he had just eaten. Kiriko still moved closer to him, to offer a windbreak. It made Black Jack even angrier to have Kiriko be so instantly aware and giving.

The made the trek to the hotel on the north part of the airport in relative silence. When they arrived, Kiriko led the way to side door, which he accessed with a guest card key. Black Jack shivered the snow off his shoulders in the lobby. It was a simple place. Not even a restaurant or breakfast nook. There was a vending machine, and Kiriko stopped to get "supplies" in the form of all the nuts remaining in the machine. They also stopped at the concierge to get a small bottle of shaving cream, as Black Jack's had been confiscated on the plane as "tools of the terrorist." He accepted the small bottle of shaving cream and a small plastic razor graciously. 

As the elevator door squealed closed, Black Jack asked, “How did you know?”

Kiriko pressed the button for the third floor. “Your passport, when it fell out of your bag at the airport.”

“Ah.” Of course. He'd probably seen the date. It occurred to Black Jack that the diversion of torturing Black Jack had given him something to distract himself from his misery. He supposed just this once, he wouldn't complain. Just for the night. After all the man was sharing his hotel room. 

After a moment, Kiriko said, "I guess your midget is sad she's missing your birthday." He leaned in a little close.  "You must be sad that you're spending it with me."

"I don't  _ celebrate  _ my birthday. She tries to make a big deal of it every year, but it usually only involves her making dinner and some sort of dessert. Which may or may not be inedible. So this is not particularly different." He considered addressing the “midget” comment, but knew it was bait.

Kiriko smiled a little. "Then I suppose I'll be your Pinoko tonight."  He leaned on the wall as the doors opened. "She always says she’s ‘the doctor’s wife’."

"Do as you please, just no more American sweets." He held his stomach as though pained. He stepped off the elevator, and waited for him to lead the way.

The room was, in fact, near the elevator. There most prominent thing was a window that showed the white world outside. Black Jack shivered again, the last of the cold shaking out of him. As promised, there were two beds.  In the corner lurked an ominous metal box.  There would be no doubt what was within. Kiriko closed the door, took Black Jack's bag and coat, and pulled him to the further bed with little preamble.  "So... What would you like your wife to do for you on your birthday?" he said with a leer. He wondered if he'd actually manage to get laid tonight or if he was just about to coax a fist to the face.  Either would be fine.  Either would distract him from the day's disappointments that he would otherwise be contemplating alone in this cold room.

Black Jack let himself be tugged, but his attention lingered on the box. He coughed into his free hand and made a decision: they would avoid talking shop tonight. The patient was gone, and neither dark doctor could help them anymore. He scowled a little longer at the box, but then let Kiriko have his gaze. "I don't have a wife, as much as Pinoko may claim otherwise." He chuckled. "What would you want a wife to do for you?" He turned on his side, and leaned up on an elbow, clasping his wrist with his free hand.

Kiriko laughed out loud.  "I am not any more a marrying man than you are, Black Jack." He lazily eyed the long, tired form of the other on the bed, and the question's core needled at him. What did he want of Black Jack? Well, it didn't look like he was going to get a fight. And the other? Kiriko wondered what he wanted. It wasn’t enough to just say "sex.” That wasn't quite it. He wanted Black Jack in a very... full way. His mind wandered over memories, sampling what he could of their strange past of embattlement and occasional sensual interaction. "Go... go shave. It's going to go on my bill.  I would hate for you to waste your shaving cream. It's my birthday present to you, whether you celebrate or not."

Black Jack chuckled darkly again, and stood, stretched (his back popping again),and picked up the small can of shaving cream. "This, I will happily accept." He stepped to the bathroom sink, undoing his tie.

As Kiriko watched (the sink was outside the bathroom proper), he realized one of the things he would want.

He went to Black Jack's coat, where he knew they would be, and selected a long, flat scalpel.  "Wait," he called to Black Jack, who had just started patting the cream onto his face.  He was adorable like this: shirt open, the devil's own collarbones exposed, white floof haphazardly decorating his face.  "Please... allow me?"

Black Jack looked at the long thin blade. "If you look in my medical bag, you will find a more suitable razor in there." He pointed, in the general direction of the chair where both his bag and coat had been set.

Kiriko flipped the scalpel in his hand like a cowboy with a gun.  He felt like he'd won a prize.  He replaced it, then quickly found the razor bag.  Black Jack didn't disappoint.  Three straight razors, folded neatly and with a small kit.  There was an obvious gap where the cream had been. Kiriko reached in front of Black Jack to turn on the hot water at a low stream.  He didn't particularly care if he wasted the hotel's water right now. He then fetched a chair for Black Jack's comfort.  Kiriko leaned back against the ledge of the sink and smiled. He pulled the first razor from the bag and smiled at it. "You keep these as meticulously sharp?" he asked.

"Yes. I never know when I might have to use them instead." He looked up at him, wondering if the joke might land.

Kiriko almost belly laughed, then reached out to touch Black Jack's frothy face. He pet while under the guise of swirling it over his patchy beginning beard. He let the hot water run over the first straight razor to warm it. "I promise I won't use these to cut you, anyway." Then the first long, slow scrape of perfectly primed metal to flesh.

Black Jack leaned his head back, making it easier for the other to reach him. Really, when someone was holding a sharp blade to your skin, you didn't want them frustrated in their efforts. Warm hands, and gentle touches to his face, and then that touch of warm metal, soothing away the itch of beard growth. He hadn't noticed that a sigh had slipped out of him.

Kiriko was indeed pleased. He had to be careful of the subtle scars of Black Jack's face.  There were the two obvious ones, but a network of slight differences in stretch and texture belied the many grafts that had made him whole again. Kiriko treated each square inch as preciously as a doctor might be expected to. He tilted Black Jack's head carefully, and rinsed in warm water after every long, careful stroke. He was tempted to try to remove Black Jack's frankly silly sideburns. But he did not, cutting a line at the very end of fashionably acceptable. Kiriko let his fingers brush over the smooth skin as it was revealed. Black Jack let Kiriko touch, tilt, and move him as he wished, enjoying the soothing clean feeling of the shave. He looked up at him now, watching his expression as Kiriko's hands moved smoothly over his cheeks and face. He could tell that there was careful stroking and care to shave in the proper direction. Those hands were still skillful.

At last, Kiriko sighed, pleased with the result.  There was nothing that could be done about the hair on top of his head, but the shaving was done at least.  He cleaned the razor and replaced it in the case, leaving it open to breath, then towelled off Black Jack's face gently.  "I don't have a way to make a hot towel.  This will have to do," he said softly.

"It's just good to have the hair off of my face." He rubbed a hand over his cheek. It was a smooth, clean shave. He watched him, taking such care with these items. He stood up, and replaced the chair at the desk. "Thank you kindly for the shave."

Kiriko caught his hand then, and pulled him close in for a kiss. There was nothing but the soft sound of air moving through the vents. He kissed him, deeply, determinedly, touching his smooth face.

Black Jack allowed the kiss. The man obviously needed it. These were rare moments between them. What this would be? The fifth time? When the other finally pulled back, stroking over his cheeks a final time, Black Jack smirked. "I see. You would shave your wife, then kiss her?"

Kiriko growled and then cuffed him lightly on the chin. "You are impossible. If I had a wife, I'm sure  _ he'd _ be of the sort who needed a shave!" he growled.  His lips were burning from the need growing in him. "Whatever, I don't suppose you want anything else, of course. It's not like I'm actually demanding payment for a place to sleep."  He was shivering suddenly, as want cycled through him and he tried to quash it.

Kiriko often thought that Black Jack was cruel. Yet there were many in the world who thought it was Black Jack who was more so. But Kiriko could be kind, when the urge burned against his insides. Kiriko was obviously hurting. Black Jack reached out, catching the other's shoulder. He pulled him close again. He swallowed a little hard, that fierce blue eye still just just as startling as they had been the first time he saw them. He leaned in, slowly, and tilted his head, his lips catching the other man's and pulled him into a slow kiss.

Kiriko's heart welled with intensity, part of him aching like a child, part of him wanting to control and dominate. Tears were fighting their way out, but his hands gripped forcefully into Black Jack's shoulders. He drowned himself in Black Jack's willing lips.

Black Jack mused this wouldn't be the strangest thing he had done to heal a person. His hands worked at the front of the other man's clothing, removing his scarf, unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric of the scarf was soft between his fingers, as he pulled it free. His hands found their way beneath the Kiriko's dress shirt and pressed to the soft fabric of his undershirt, feeling the warmth of the other doctor's body and the pounding of his heart. He worked under his chin now, and up along his throat, kissing and nipping gently along the muscle.

Kiriko felt the ache burning in him. Was it the gentleness, the touch of the only one, perhaps in the world, who could feel the same pain, the pain that made him so weak? He was panting already with want, excitement, and need.  But his eyes welled with tears.  What was wrong with him? He ignored everything going on inside himself, then, and focused on the touches, the kisses, the nips.

The shorter of the two pushed the other back, towards the bed. He held him by the front of his shirt, kissing over his chest, and sucking hard at a collarbone. Kiriko made a hard noise. It was getting rougher, faster between them.  He bucked against Black Jack, wrapped long arms around Black Jack's body.  He tugged the other up to capture his lips again, wanting to kiss him as an equal.

A final push, the back of Kiriko's knees hit the side of the bed. They tumbled onto the bed, Black Jack pinning the other's hands. Dammit, he wouldn't let him dictate how things went this time. It left too much time for thinking. And thinking was not something either of them needed to do at the moment.

Kiriko let out an "oof!" with the sudden weight atop him.  And it was a weight that... felt very good.  He struggled half-heartedly against the hands holding his own, but clasped their fingers together.  He fought, but it felt more like fighting himself than an external force.  His eye was tightly closed, and every time he peered through slit, all he could see was the intense gaze of the other dark doctor.

Their kiss was a long and sensual one. that pressed gently to the other man's lips and teased along his lower lip with his tongue. He nipped at it slowly, and then worked his way down, nipping at his adam's apple.

By all gods, it was unfair that he remembered so sharply how to handle his every desire. Black Jack was unreal in his mapping of Kiriko's body. The nips to his throat were pernicious and worked a kind of magic on him. He was moaning lowly, deeply, in response. Kiriko finally found his voice and growled out, "Well, you've caught me. What do you think you can do with me?"

"Whatever you would wish a wife to do, I suppose,” Black Jack he murmured gently against the skin. His free hand slipped up under Kiriko's undershirt, feeling over the taut skin and warm muscle.

"I have... peculiar tastes," he panted. "It would take a very special wife to.... ah...." He arched into the touches. "To give in to anything I want."

Black Jack huffed. He was almost insulted. He removed his tie, slid it off his neck quickly, and reached up to carefully tie the other man's, his lover's, hands at the wrists. "Do not destroy my tie." He sucked again at the high ridge of his adam's apple, moving to straddle him as he did so.

Kiriko sighed softly, his arms becoming taught with the restriction and want.  He played his hands like wings over Black Jack's heart, but couldn't speak. Instead, he sucked in air desperately, as Black Jack's backside was pressure against him.  Kiriko hadn't even noticed that he had already been so stirred.

"Tell me of these peculiar tastes." Black Jack spoke in a cool, clinical voice. He leaned against Kiriko’s splayed hands and began to unbutton his own vest. He remembered this man appreciating a bit of a strip show in the past.

Kiriko stared up, rapt. Black Jack didn't even know what he had sometimes, but seemed willing to use it nonetheless. He bit down on his lower lip for a moment, the closed his eyes. What did it matter if he said? "You've already given me something of it." He displayed his wrists draped in the red cord. He then stroked his index fingers together down over Black Jack's shirt. "Perhaps I'm not perverted enough to just enjoy sex with men. Perhaps I'm completely perverted, enjoying things that others think horrible. I suspect you expected it of me, though."

"I've been told I am perverse as well. That when any said to ‘go right,’ I would go left. Perhaps my perverseness is what makes me willing." He unbuttoned his shirt, and slipped both vest and shirt down to his elbows. He watched as Kiriko followed the motion and then gave a long lingering gaze down his chest.

Kiriko was certainly appreciative.  Seeing Black Jack's scars was somehow deeply appealing.  That he wore them proudly, his eternal evidence of an unwillingness to give up. He was damn inspirational. Almost disgustingly so. Kiriko could never have that self-assurance.  But he could admire it, desire it. He licked his lips a little. "You are perverse. You want to do this with some old man you hate."

"I never said I hate you. I just expect better of you." He slipped his belt off and gave an experimental snap. He slid down his front, and unzipped the front of the other doctor's trousers, slowly, and leaned down. His lips placed kisses at a sharp-angled hipbone.

Kiriko managed to sit up. He watched in fascination as Black Jack treated him so... kindly. Sensually. Why? Why didn't this man hate him? Black Jack was a fool, but had never made a secret of his distaste for Kiriko's sacred work. The tears were fighting again at his eyes, and he clamped his mouth tightly against their imminence.

"Blindfold or no?" Black Jack asked as he worked his mouth along that sharp angle.

Kiriko's heart jumped wildly.  He considered for a moment (hard to do when those lips are working so hard on distracting you), but finally sighed out, "Halfway there already these days. I'd hate to lose sight of you, but I trust you."  After a moment, he muttered. "I don't hate you either."

"What would you want from a wife?" He murmured against his stomach, nipping against the skin. He rubbed a hand slyly along his own inner thighs.

Kiriko groaned softly and purred out. "Why should I answer when you already know exactly what I want?" He whistled lightly through his teeth as the fingers turned and nails dug tiny trails. "I could use... care." His voice nearly broke at the word, and he didn't know why.

He looked up at him, eyes peering over the rise of his chest. He kissed at his sternum watching him. He licked a straight line down over his stomach, and around his navel.

_ Those damn eyes _ ! Kiriko thought, always intense. Always cool. Always evaluating him. Kiriko was oddly certain that he wasn't found lacking.

Black Jack shifted down and pressed his mouth to the front of Kiriko's trousers and breathed hot air through the fabric. He stroked his hands, palms down over the other man's thighs.

Kiriko groaned out loudly then. He felt heat shoot to his center and pool in his groin. He gasped at the feeling, and his hips rolled of their own will.  His fingers reached out, catching the tips of Black Jack's hair. "Yes... please..." he murmured.

_ Think of the warm, and those teasing fingers in your hair. Think of how you were willing to _ do  _ this when you didn't know him. When it was just a small hut, and the thundering rain that shook the little shack you were in. _ He reached up, catching his hands and kissed the pads of his fingers.

Kiriko also found the remembrance visceral. He bit back his desire to call a different name. Instead he stroked carefully over those pinkened lips. "Black. Jack." he said carefully. "You don't have to be nervous. If you want a safety barrier, I did pick up protection in the Pancake Hut's bathroom." He awkwardly reached toward one trouser pocket with two tied hands.  He fumbled, but was able to withdraw a red packet.

"I imagine I might need that in a bit." He reached for the little red packet. He turned it over in his hands. "Strawberry flavoured?" He looked askance at it.

Kiriko shrugged. "I only had so much change in my pocket, and it was the second thing to come out. The lube is still in my pocket."

"In my estimation, latex's ability to emulate any fruit, especially strawberry, is lacking." He chuckled, and worked his fingers over his front, tugging his trousers down. He opened the condom packet, and placed the top of the condom against his tongue. He made a face. Was there anything Americans wouldn't sweeten?

Kiriko chuckled as well: that face on Black Jack was priceless. "It's not as bad as banana, I assure you."

"Know much of the taste of these, do you? Is there anything health-wise I should know about?" He held the condom over his tip.

"I am in excellent health both vitally and constitutionally. I have not engaged in any at-risk behaviour since"  _ the last time we made lo- _ "the last time you asked me that question." He shivered at the touch to his member. He tried to ignore how good it felt to be under another's care.

Black Jack only nodded, and placed the condom. He pressed his mouth against it before sliding it down with one hand and following with his mouth. He blushed a little at the moan that issued from the other man. It was a shuddering sound. Kiriko's air left his body more as a long gasp than anything else. He held his body tightly still. "Ku- ooh!" he gasped. "When did you start doing that, Black Jack?" he finally was able to say.

Black Jack looked up at him and quirked an eyebrow, then continued on with what he was doing. He pressed his mouth down over him, licking along the shaft as he did so. He pulled back and sucked at just the head.

Even with the barrier, it was a divine pressure.  In fact, he thought it good that he had the barrier to deaden the sensation. Otherwise, he might have lost control too easily and been an embarrassment.  It suddenly occurred to Kiriko to wonder if this might be somewhat like what Black Jack himself experienced. Given the, ah, potential for his reassembled sensation. "Softer. Less stimulation. Just where  _ you _ feel it," he begged. He had made himself understood. The quick mouth worked at just under the frenulum, his own only real point of pleasure. Black Jack offered a teasing thumb at just his base, another tease at just above his sack. He flicked his tongue and pressed his prick against his lips.

Kiriko watched, rapt. He could focus just a little better like this, but the knowledge of how to please Black Jack was itself almost too much. It was torturous as well. He wanted to buck up against it, wanted to take more, but he had asked for only this much. Black Jack tugged at his tip, and worked his mouth against the base. Black Jack shifted to turn onto his hip. He felt pressure beneath him at his own front. The inspiration for such an arousal had to be the idea of the other surgeon knowing how to touch him, knowing how to pleasure him, knowing how he  _ worked _ . He pressed a gentle kiss to just above his prick, teasing fingers into the pale hair nested at the base.

Kiriko could barely contain an undignified whimper. How differently Black Jack behaved now.  Clearly he had learned how to enjoy some aspects of sex. Kiriko reached down with both hands to touch Black Jack's lips. "I should have realized that only the most careful and precise touches could satisfy you."

He could feel the warmth that had suffused his cheeks. He looked up at Kiriko, touching another kiss to his fingertips. He held out a demanding hand. "Lubrication."

_ Bastard _ . As though it weren't easier for the man with untied arms to get it.  And to demand it as coolly as requesting a scalpel! Kiriko wriggled to gain access to his pocket and dig out the single packet.  He hoped it would be enough. Black Jack accepted the small packet, and sat back on his heels. He caught the other man's trousers by two of the belt loops and tugged them further down, and off. He leaned in, kissing the other man, the taste of fake strawberries between them, his lips tinted slightly red from the dye.

Such a peculiarly youthful taste made him wistful for the one night of “teaching” so long ago. Kiriko sighed into the kiss, and thought a moment about what Black Jack had taught him to enjoy: being able to let another take control. He tugged again at the tie and moaned.

It was a slow, meaningful kiss. He pulled back, and opened the small packet, letting some of the lubricant coat his fingers. He kissed him again, and the pressed his fingers gently against the other man's entrance, stroking and teasing gently. Kiriko made a noise and retreated slightly from the cold.  "Ahhh?" he gasped.  He wasn't opposed, just surprised. Was he going to feel everything Black Jack liked? Wait, he only had the one condom!

"No?" Black Jack quirked up an eyebrow at him. Would this not work for him? Some drew the line sharply at this point. Being the penetrative partner was fine, but for various reasons, being penetrated was off limits. He waited for the other man's response.

"I said 'ah', not 'no,'" Kiriko grumped.  He angled a little differently.  He didn't know how to explain his worries.  He decided to ignore them. "I... Completely trust you." His voice choked with the emotion. He did trust Black Jack, more than anyone else in the world. Black Jack pressed another kiss to his lips, even as he stroked and massaged against his entrance. His own pulse had raised and his breathing had become quickened. The feel of Kiriko's nearly fully bared body pressed to his fairly clothed one had a sensuous feeling all its own. The soft gasps and moans against his lips as they slipped from the other doctor's mouth were also inspire the flush in his cheeks as well. Kiriko was hyper-aware of his muscles tensing and relaxing under those quick fingers.  He felt sweat coming to his brow.  "Please..." he finally begged into Black Jack's dark-and-light crown.

He looked up at him, the flush full on his cheeks. "If you’re begging for what I’m sure you are, I'm afraid that I do not have condoms suitable for sexual activity. Nor did I consider procuring them." Why would he have? He'd thought he would be sleeping on a hard airport bench.

"Argh..." Kiriko fell back against the pillow and put his bound hands over his eyes. Why had they wasted the one condom on himself if Black Jack was planning on this sort of thing? He pulled the other up to kiss roughly.  His mind was calculating something foolish, but... "What if," he murmured between kisses, "I told you that I would be willing to trust you if you've not had a transfusion in sub-Sahara Africa or South America, unprotected sex with someone else, or a tattoo in the last six months?"

He snorted derisively. "You're a fool. As though I would ever get a tattoo." He stroked his free hand against the other man's cheek. "Have you been with anyone else?" He pulled his fingers from him, so that he might answer with no other influences.

Kiriko snorted as well, though his body ached at the emptiness. "Not a lot of opportunities.  Or desire." He smirked. "I'm afraid you've been the only one in a very long time."

"Well, I imagine you would only be interested in a wife." He kissed at the dip between the other's collarbones. He stood and cleaned himself. He returned to the bedside, quickly tidying the small mess of clothing they’d produced.

"I'm a little old to find a wife who will treat me so well."  His body was still shaking from Black Jack's skilled hands.  He was a bit breathless, but he had already decided what he wanted. "Please, Black Jack. I've only so much energy in these old bones." The entendre was rich, but played straight.

Black Jack ran his hands up under the other man's undershirt again, feeling the warmth of the other man's skin. "You aren't  _ that  _ much older than me." He kissed him full on the mouth, as he finished speaking in a soft tone to him. He trailed back over his cheek, skimming the sharp line, and nipped at a sensitive point on his ear. He stood now and undid his trousers, and slipped them down. He climbed back atop him and kiss down his stomach, and gave a last kiss to the other man's tip. He pulled the condom free, the kiss having slightly touched up the red stain at his mouth.

Kiriko sighed softly at the newly cold air.  He groaned at the sight of Black Jack's battered body, slightly mismatched legs, and endless scars.  Proof that he lived, and all the more beautiful for it.  He reached forward to stroke along his sides, touching ribs and musculature, and, worshipfully, skin.  At last he reached to those cut in hips and tugged him forward.  Even his prick was so very scarred along one side.  Kiriko delicately touched Black Jack's tip, lovingly, remembering the places and pressures shown to him earlier. He brushed his thumb lovingly up underneath the frenulum as his other fingers pushed back the foreskin. "Black Jack," he sighed out, accidentally offering a more loving tone than ever before.

Black Jack gasped softly, and covered his mouth with his wrist in a bashful move. This man learned quickly, remembering even the softest touches. He gripped hard into his shoulders, and moaned, finally, but slowly pulling back from his grasp.

Kiriko pouted a bit, but nodded. "If you want me to stop, you'll have to distract me, won't you?" He cheekily grinned, but his reddened cheeks belied the desire.

Black Jack leaned over Kiriko’s body to reach the remainder of the lubrication from the night stand, and carefully applied it to himself. In stroking over his own prick, Black Jack was efficient in the extreme. He pressed forward with a slow motion, and swirled a thicker amount over his tip. He refused to hurt the other. Despite his measured actions, his heart pounded. He pressed himself gently against the other man's entrance, glanced up for approval. It was very much in his mind that he had not been on this side of the type of interaction between them. "Whenever you are ready." He didn’t quite know which of them he was saying this to, Kiriko or himself.

Kiriko found himself absolutely charmed by the precision, control, and slight worry passing over Black Jack's face. He touched the man’s darker cheek. "I suppose whenever is fine." He dramatically sighed, but grinned. He was ready. He was more than ready. Black Jack pressed forward slowly, watching for Kiriko’s reaction of pain. The heat within was intense, as Kiriko’s muscles spasmed against and around him. He found he was holding his breath as he sank into him and slowly exhaled as he rested his forearms to just above Kiriko's shoulders. Kiriko didn’t think it painful, quite, but it was invasive, intense, overwhelming.  He was careful to relax, to control his breathing, but stole a kiss from Black Jack when he was in range. 

"Comfortable?" he asked with a smirk.

Black Jack shivered, and nodded. "Are you?" He stroked back through that long, pale hair. He brought some to his lips, testing the softness of it against the more sensitive skin of his lips.

Kiriko leaned back and stretched.  It was agony to be so full.  "Can't stand it. Too much. I think I like it."  He touched his own stomach as though he could feel externally the presence of another inside him. It was so strangely life-affirming. This was all that could be life-affirming, maybe. He arched again, grinding a bit against the other's hips. "I can manage. Move as pleases you."

Red-black eyes looked down at him. He pressed a kiss against the eyepatch. "Do you think you will let me see this as well?" he murmured so he could hear. He did take this moment to start to move.

Oh, gods, if being filled was one thing, this was entirely different.  Kiriko was unable to respond for a moment, and briefly wondered how Black Jack had always been so mouthy during sex in the scant few times before. He closed his eye and breathed a sharp, panting rhythm. Finally, he found a way to speak. "You want to blindfold me… you don’t want to blindfold me…! Ah! Make up your m-mind! Anything... for you...." But he couldn't do anything with his hands except clench into Black Jack's shoulders and back.  His legs curled around Black Jack's hips, and the angle shifted within him. "Anything..."

He chuckled breathily "I doubt that." His hips moved on their own now, freeing him to kiss down Kiriko's jawline and down over his throat.

"I, ahhh, mean sexually.  Anything... Oh yes, sexually.  You really endured this?"  He rode out the thrusts as he could, the rhythm becoming more natural.

"More than. You were much harder on me in Vietnam." He sped slightly, matching a pace closer to the one he had experienced then, one hand slipping down to grip the other man's hip.

It was at this hard rhythm that something shifted inside Kiriko.  He gasped loudly, his muscles tensely harshly.  This was no longer a thing to be endured alone.  There was intense, blinding pleasure, very suddenly. The peculiar satisfaction of being full was traded in full for a sense of being taken, roughly. "You mewled so sweetly!" he cried. "How could I... ah! ... keep from, ja,  _ jaaaa _ .... treating you a little roughly?"  He arched hard against the thrusts, trying to meet the needines.

"Aber es war so sehr hart dann,” he murmured so close to his ear on his blind side. "Mein Mann."

"Ohhhh Gott!" His own language, with a silvered accent on Black Jack's lips.  It was too cruel.  His mouth opened in a silent cry, and heat boiled through him, landing in his very center to be agitated and tortured by Black Jack's endless strokes. He clenched hard around Black Jack, feeling him sliding and pressing deep. At last regaining sense, he decided to allow this man what he wanted for whatever reason.  With one hand, he pulled free the tie of his eyepatch to reveal the unpleasant sight.

He slowed, looking at the newly revealed skin. He trailed gentle fingers over it, stroking along angry white lines in pale skin. He reached up, pinning his hands, and doubled his speed. He kissed him fully on the mouth.

Kiriko struggled, the strain sending another shock through him.  He was panting pathetically, craving more.  He was already so close!  "Kuroo..." he called softly, the syllables broken by his shattered equilibrium.

He moaned softly near his ear, panting softly against his neck. He murmured his name softly, his accent breaking it into three soft breathy portions: “Ki-ri-ko!”

He wanted so much to ease the pressure in his prick.  He groaned, tugging at the grip around his wrists. He arched his hips hard , trying desperately to find a way to rub or find any friction at all.  "You damnable fiend!" he cried.

Black Jack guessed what the grumblings and gyrations were about. He chuckled. "I either finish you this way. Or I finish you with my mouth. You don't get both. He spoke such lewd things again, against his blind side. Never where he could see him.

Kiriko shuddered in response, the suggestion, their voicing, almost too much to bear.  "Ku- Black Jack!" He tried to protest more effectively, but this was what he'd asked.  When they had coupled before... more often than not there'd been no stimulation offered to Black Jack's male organ.  Kiriko had roughly used him until he orgasmed from the fucking alone. Kiriko's cock was so hard it almost hurt by now, the precum thick at the tip. But he needed to finish now, he was sure. Kiriko summoned his voice again.  "Black Jack!  Kuroo... whoever you are... Like this."  He canted his hips forward, finding that delicious angle that sparked pleasure through his whole body.

Black Jack gasped, his eyes sliding closed. He let himself pant softly next to the other man's ear, allowing small moans and heavily breathing to exist in that space where he could be heard but not seen. They moved together. He could feel his own finish slowly approaching. He murmured softly the other name, "Kiriko... Kiriko...." in a building mantra.

He tried to turn his head to see what expression Black Jack had while making love. But this he evaded by pressing their cheeks together.  Kiriko wanted to see him, see his profane moments, see him just barely in control. Black Jack did, however, have some mercy in him. He reached up, undoing the tie from around the other's wrists. He pulled it slowly as he arched his body upright. As he looked over the pale man’s form, he was struck by the thinness, the scars, the heavy burden he had taken on. He hadn't considered Kiriko beautiful, per se, before now. But for the moment, the knowledge of the other man's survival through hardship stirred something in Hazama.

Kiriko had thought he would immediately reach for his own prick with the overwhelming need to orgasm.  But with the sight of the other man's face, his peculiar expression, he could not help but reach forward to pull him forward into a kiss.  Kiriko shifted them both, pressing their fronts together. There was the friction he'd sought! He felt like he wanted to kiss the lips of this man, this man who had woven in and out of his life for so long--the one constant companion other than death itself. He couldn't bear it. "Kuroo, I want to feel you finish. Give it to me," he begged softly.

He groaned deeply into the kiss. There was trust here. No collusion, no forcing of his hand. Just two people  _ here _ , in this small pocket of time. This day that did not exist for one reason or another. He looked up, as Kiriko's long elegant fingers linked with his. He nodded, and kissed him, slowly, and deeply.

The snow had ended the world, so these two men who tried, for some reason, to wield power over life and death, had nothing  to do with their powers--only each other.  Black Jack moved slower, deeper. Kiriko felt half-drugged with the endless hanging at the edge.  He breathed in time with each slow slide into his body.  Heat surrounded them both. There was a sentence hanging between them, but it was one that would never be said. Even as the world fell away.

Black Jack cried out softly, his finish beginning. He again worked his hips harder, a quick pace, and reached between them both, fingers stroking along the Kiriko’s length. Kiriko would have blushed, if his cheeks were not already in high color, at how instantly his own finish came.  He could feel the sudden swelling in his partner's organ buried within him. Kiriko gasped and felt his body clench, tightly, then rhythmically release.  He moaned loudly, his hand squeezing perhaps too tightly into Black Jack's.

The world whited out.

Kiriko’s focus was broken. He muzzily floated back down into reality. Soon they both lay together, heat cooling around them. Black Jack rested on his forearms again, their foreheads together. A few slow kisses passed between them, but mostly they just waited and rested. Kiriko's heart beat wildly in his chest, and echoed Black Jack’s own. At last he was once again master of his own heartbeat, and the creeping cold began to seep in. Kiriko closed his good eye to try to find his equilibrium again. While still in that blackness, he chuckled. "Well, that was a bit different."

Black Jack only replied, "Yes." He pulled from Kiriko, and fell back beside him, still panting softly.

Kiriko tried, and failed, to reign in a grin. "So. Did I take your first time?" He tilted his head coyly.  He was dimly aware of discomfort, dampness, and coming cold.  But the warmth hadn't yet faded.

Black Jack looked at the ceiling, but nodded slowly. "Yes." It was spoken quietly, but honestly.

Why was he always so earnest?  It's was damnably frustrating. But touching. Kiriko petted the still-unwilted crest of hair affectionately.  Suddenly, though, he was aware of a chilling disaster.  He sat up and darted to the bathroom. "Yeagh!"

Apparently there were firsts all around tonight.

For a few minutes, displeased mutterings came from the bathroom, but Kiriko soon returned with a warm damp cloth.  He leaned over his lover and set to cleaning him. Black Jack didn't care to move. He, in fact, seemed to be ignoring the touches entirely, but for the occasional pleased sigh. The gentle brushes of warm water, cleaning the light amount of sweat was pleasant, but his body was overwhelmed with the full intensity of the previous act. He watched as the other man skimmed over his body. "I'm glad that you seem to like this.” He placed a hand over the one holding the cloth. "Though I feel that this, the cleaning up part, could be more easily achieved with a shower."

“I don't doubt, but you seemed a little dazed."  He leaned down to capture a kiss, and then pulled Black Jack up. The agreement to share the shower was made without speaking. The shower was similarly silent, with each of them taking turns in touching and bathing the other. Kiriko was perfunctory about his ablutions: his hair he washed with the same bar of soap as the rest of himself.  However, he agreed to the offer to scrub his back, turning around for Black Jack to treat him.

Once Kiriko had turned around, Black Jack whispered, "For the record, you give excellent birthday gifts. I'm sure if I had a birthday, I could not fail to appreciate it." He lifted Kiriko’s hair, so that the back of his neck could be scrubbed.

Kiriko stretched to his full height to appreciate the scrub. "I'm glad you liked your pie-cake," he said with a snerk. Black Jack scrubbed a little harder than necessary as his only response. "Well, in any case, I'm glad I got to come to your birthday party. Even your daughter didn't get to come.  I feel very elite." He stretched again, resting against the wall and letter the hot water hit him, and enjoyed the others' hands upon him.  It was then that the warm exhaustion hit him. "Would you..." he started, then stopped. He started again when the hands on his back stopped moving. "Would you share a bed with me tonight?" he asked, the vulnerability leaking through the simple words.

Black Jack smirked a little, and opened his mouth to respond.

 

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, DV Demoni, husband of seven years this year!


End file.
